


He Is The Worst Known

by antisnotabug



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Gen, anger issues, i am italian if that helps put people at ease?, idk - Freeform, repression: the british way, slurs against italians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antisnotabug/pseuds/antisnotabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-movie. Archy has just been let out of prison. A harmless kidnapping goes south very quickly while Archy tries to process what happened while he had his cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Is The Worst Known

The warehouse they liked to use was a far cry from what you would call respectable or homey, but it was much closer to those ideals than the abandoned club the trio stood on front of now. Dark paint, color beyond identifying, curled off the walls. That exposed the deteriorating concrete beneath. It was a junkie's den if Archy ever saw one. The problem with that theory was that there wasn't another soul in sight. He could tell by peering into the gaps of the wall. His eyes shifted from these holes to the shorter man on his left. "Here, Len?" he asked, not bothering to keep incredulity from his expression. "Fucking hell, you really know how to welcome a guy home, don'tcha?"

"Well it's a good thing this isn't about you then isn't it, Archy?" His employer stuck his hands in the pockets of his beige suit. His chest puffed out, same as it always did whenever Lenny felt challenged. Rarely ever rested, Lenny's chest. Arch lowered his head, although it did nothing to make his 6'2” frame appear smaller.

"No, it isn't."

"This is for our guest," Lenny reminded him, the cheerful upturn in his voice not hiding the biting edge, but enhancing it. "So show him inside." It was the first time since Archy stuffed the fellow in the car's boot that either one of them acknowledged the existence the third party. The man in question was as stiff as a board. Archy suspected that he affected this purposefully, to hide a tremor. Again he was tempted to raise his concerns. He knew some things would change while he had been away. Four years is a long time. But since when had ransoming been part of their business? Lenny never put it in so many words, but that's exactly what they were doing on this clear night.

He lacked the time to muse on any of this, of course. That was always the case. Archy shoved their guest along head first. The man almost fell to the ground, but he managed to walk inside. Archy followed, and Lenny followed them both. The last man in closed the door behind them. It seemed pretty pointless with the conditions of the building, but no one pointed this out. The inside proved no better than the outside. Shattered remains of bottles littered the floor. Cracks ran through the foundations. Archy didn't know who had the fool idea of putting a club out in the sticks of London, but it very clearly didn't work out for them. Their kidnapee, an unfortunate soul by the name of Donny (sometimes called Donny the Dago by his friends and enemies alike), decided he felt brave. "You're uh, playing your hand a little strong there, don't you think? My crew can at least play it subtle when we wanna intimidate somebody."

Archy swooped in. The fairly shorter and rotund Donny backed up, which is exactly what Archy wanted him to do. It made handcuffing Donny to the stripper pole behind him that much easier. Archy kept the handcuffs out of sight until the moment they were needed. In one movement, he secured it around Donny's wrist and clicked it shut. Another and he did the same with the pole. He remained silent through this while Lenny said, "Your crew wouldn't know the meaning of subtle if it very subtly came up to you and grabbed you by the pecker." Archy faded back, ready to disappear to the dark shadow behind Lenny's shoulder. Yet Len pointed at him, "Now Archy here. Archy _knows_ subtle." Donny warily eyed Archy, his dark eyes glimmering with something unknowable. Lenny went on, "That lovely little trick with the cuffs he just pulled, that's nothing. He can do a lot more than that with his hands. None of it lovely either."

For his part, Archy stood tall and impassive. He knew he wasn't meant to speak. It gave him time to think about what the hell Lenny was doing. He normally didn't take the time to talk Archy up like this. He didn't have to. Archy wasn't a thing like the chair or the garrote that needed explaining. Archy frightened simply by being there. Did Lenny think Archy had lost his touch while he was in prison, that he needed the extra bit of help? The old man couldn't have been more wrong.

It was more par the course for Archy's mind to wander off while Lenny did the talking. He missed a good portion of what his boss said after that. He tuned back in and heard, "So we need to make sure that happens. You're what we call insurance, Donny. Your wop friends give me back what's mine, then I'll do the very same. It's balance, you see. It's keeping the peace." Donny turned his head from Lenny to Archy, then back to Lenny. He pursed his lips, involuntarily. Archy wondered if his ill mood still reflected in his face. 

"Neither one of you knows a fucking thing about peace."

"Well isn't that rich, coming from the fascist."

Donny scoffed. Archy felt the urge to do the same, his boss' politics ever a point of amusement. He instead remained steady. That was the name of the game, after all. His job was to be still, to be ever unmoved by the words and pleas of their associates. Donny raised his round chin. He surely had plenty to say. The Dago always did. "So how was your time away, Archy?"

Archy did not move. He didn't dare. One twitch of his eye would prove Lenny right, that his "time away" really did make him go funny. It was an admirable attempt to stay cool, but it was perhaps too good as the temperature around them dropped. His gaze stayed ahead and his hands remained folded behind his back. No one could see them flex that way.

"I don't think that's a road you want to go down, boy-o," Lenny advised, his voice low. The man's eyes shifted between Archy and Donny. Somewhere in the back of his head, Archy noted Lenny's calculating look. Even as he wanted to teach Donny a lesson in etiquette he'd never forget, Archy noticed the little things.

Donny appeared to be doing some calculating himself. "Yeah... uh. Heard about that. Real shame, someone doing you so dirty." Archy looked away, for his own sake. This must've made Donny more confident in himself, because when he opened his mouth again, he sounded more certain. "Real shame. Loyal as a dog you are, everyone knows that." Archy whipped his head around. This wasn't how he was supposed to react. He wasn't supposed to react period. But how many times did the pigs watching over his cell call him a dog, a loyal dog? Donny flinched under the cold stare but soldiered on. "What would you do, eh, to the man who... what do you guys always say... gave you a cold?"

His right hand itched something awful. Archy knew what he'd do. Oh, how he knew.

"You know what you are, Donny?" Lenny asked. He gave up on advising their friend against the current topic of conversation. Now, the boss was almost too casual. "Too stupid for your own good. That's what you are." Lenny cleared his throat and took a step back. Then, Lenny turned to his right hand man.

"Don't you think, Archy?" Lenny asked him. He nodded his head towards their prisoner. "I mean, bloody Dago pretty much just told us he's the fucking dirty snitch."

What happened next did so quickly that Archy only barely registered it. Cool metal kissed his palm as he drew his gun from his trousers. His vision tunneled as he focused on Donny's throat. The gunshot seized his eardrums as he hadn't bothered with a silencer that night (this wasn't supposed to get violent) and red exploded in his vision when the bullet hit its target.

"JESUS CHRIST, ARCHY--"

The man in question felt disappointment for a moment when the shock in Donny's eyes didn't fade. His shot didn't hit the artery, Donny still lived. The Italian used his free hand to desperately clutch at his neck. Then vicious joy bubbled in Archy's guts. If Donny wasn't dead yet, there was still time to make him pay. Archy never thought himself to be a particularly violent man. He had his moments, of course. Anyone who grew up like he had was bound to fight at some point, to spill a little blood. What made Archy so good at his job was that he didn't relish in doling out pain. He didn't enjoy hurting people. But then Donny had just proved himself not to be people, didn't he? Donny the Dago was a fucking dirty rat. Donny tried to speak, likely to beg, but he couldn't for the blood running from his throat. Archy raised the gun again. This time, he fired into one of Donny's kneecaps. Then the other. After that, Archy wasn't really bothered about where he shot. He just fired and fired until there was nothing left in his gun. He kept pulling the trigger, hoping that somehow more bullets would spring forth.

"That's... That's enough now, Archy." Lenny carefully stepped up to his number two. When Archy looked down at him, he saw fear like he had never witnessed on Lenny. The man never looked so old. It was like he was going to shit himself at any moment. Archy could only be satisfied. Good. Never again would Lenny think that Archy had gone soft. No one would think it, or dare betray him again. Yet it didn't feel like enough. Archy spat on Donny, or rather at this point, Donny's corpse.

"Dirty bastard."

Silence. After all, Donny couldn't defend himself from the accusation now. Lenny had to be the one to disrupt the quiet, which he did after a minute of soaking in what just happened. 

"Are you done?"

Archy whirled around on his boss, the flippant and angry tone bringing him back to their surroundings. Lenny dropped his terror so fast that Archy wondered if he imagined it. Now, the older man expanded like some ridiculous beige peacock. “I don't remember telling you to kill Donny,” he reprimanded, like the headmaster he always thought himself to be. “Don't remember telling you to lay a finger on him. I most certainly don't remember saying anything about EMPTYING A WHOLE GOD DAMN CLIP INTO THE FAT FUCK.” Lenny was only inches away from Archy's ear as he screamed into it. Archy angled himself so they faced one another properly.

“He snitched,” replied Archy simply. “You said it yourself. We can't allow that, you know we can't.” He slipped his gun away, his calm partly a knee-jerk reaction to Lenny's theatrics, partly an attempt to regain his cool. Fake it 'til you make it, as they say. “If he was that brave about it, only a matter of time before he informed on you.”

Lenny, unfortunately, knew Archy far too well. He clearly did not buy the act for a moment. “Don't you dare pass this as protecting me. This was for you, you fucking maniac. You wanted blood, and that is NOT how we run this operation.” 

“He. Snitched,” Archy said again, this time through gritted teeth. The pretense of civility fell away the more Lenny saw through it. 

“On you,” Lenny replied with no hesitation.

“On me!” Now Archy was the one to shout, his booming voice carrying through the entire building. The word 'me' bounced off the pillars and walls, as though making up for all the times Archy never spoke for himself. “And now he won't fucking do it again!” Archy didn't believe in raising his voice. It didn't really work as a intimidation tactic, he found. But this wasn't for intimidation. This wasn't for anyone. Oh, Lenny was there, and he was pissing Archy right off, but this wasn't about him in the slightest. “Four years, Lenny! Four long fucking years. It's not a sentence like Jimmy Boy or the Jew Twins, but it was enough. They knew, Len. They knew who I was, what I knew. The things they-- What they did to try and make me talk--” He ran his hands through his slicked back hair. Being at a loss of words was also highly uncommon for Archy. But how does a man explain his dignity being stripped away, taking his soul with it? The answer was that he didn't. He just bore it. 

The words would never come to him anyway. Because Lenny decided he didn't want to hear about Archy's time away. He silenced his number two by raising his right hand and smacking him hard with the back of it against Archy's cheek. His head was moved by force, turning to the side. After that, Archy froze. He hadn't been slapped like that since he started with Lenny. It had been a long time since he needed to be taught a lesson. “I said,” Lenny hissed, “That's enough.”

What lesson was this, Archy wondered. What did the old man think he had left to teach him? Archy turned his head back around so he could loom over the bastard. He did his time, he kept his mouth shut, and this was his reward. An old man with a weakening kingdom, with spots so weak that scum like Donny could exploit them. Much like when he shot the informant, Archy barely saw his next movements. All he knew was that he went from staring at Lenny to having the man's collar balled up in his hand. After everything Archy did, he would not get treated like this.

Lenny again raised his right hand. This time, he backhanded Archy so hard that a bone cracked, and he couldn't tell if it was one of his own or one of Lenny's. His head whipped to look away from his boss. “Now you listen to me,” Lenny seethed, “you stupid animal.” When Archy turned again, Lenny met his glare with no fear. “You heard me, I called you a fucking animal. Because you're behaving like one. You're rabid, you need to calm the hell down. I don't have any room for that kind of behavior in my business. You don't act on your precious feelings. Were the coppers mean to you, hm? Boo fucking hoo. All in the line of duty. You've been good these past years, Arch, but do not think for a moment I will hesitate to put you down if you get out of control. You want to be a rocknrolla, Archy? You want the life, you want the money and the suits and the power? Then you have to earn it, my son.”

Archy breathed in deeply. His lungs shook and he could only hope the rest of him didn't. Lenny was right. He always was. He hadn't done anything special. He did what was expected of him. “I'm... sorry, Len.”

“You better be. Now clean this mess up. I'll be in the car.”

The old man stormed out of the den, leaving Archy with his moment of weakness. The reward for going through what he went through was living another day in his life. It earned him no guarantee. No position safety. What happened in his four years did not give him permission to do whatever the hell he wanted. There were rules. He needed to get himself together. 

As he cleaned up what was left of Donny the Dago, he still felt the anger raging away in his blood. He let it go for now. Because Archy knew that after tonight, he needed to lock that up and throw away the key. If that was all that was left of his soul, then let his soul be dead. It wouldn't be of any use to business now.


End file.
